Bellows
A Poem
Published in
Jul 16, 2024
My bellows are gassed
from excessive inhale
and progressive exhale,
trying to get deeper
into the caverns of
my constricted airway
Maybe it’s just anxiety,
but it feels more like
reductive suction
and I would prefer
to breathe in the
scent of happiness
My bellows are tired
from being the valve
for my darkest thoughts
and continually hydrating
them until they are
once again, light
Maybe it’s just the heat,
but some days, the
hardest breath is
the first one, when
the world is still
and the bellows ready
© Jonathan Greene 2024
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